Lucky
by SousLeStylo
Summary: [Oneshot] James Potter has been lucky. The wrongs in his life turned out to be right, even when it came to Lily Evans. But here's where James's luck finally runs out. R&R, please.


**A/N:** Er…yes, well. I'm not sure what to say about this one-shot… I was in an odd mood? This is so different from everything else I've done. I don't know what to think about it. At any rate, review if you'd like.

**Disclaimer:** Most assuredly not mine.

**Lucky**

People think it is odd when things go their way. The sun comes out when you want it to; that exam score is higher than you thought it would be; the boss at work gave you praise; the stew you wanted for dinner is the closest dish to your bowl; and that hand you thought wouldn't twitch anywhere near yours is sliding up your arm.

Yes, I've made some bad decisions—but that's the thing about life: sometimes those wrongs turn out to be a right, and for one perfect moment, Life is looking your way.

The heartless green of Lily's eyes has turned into calmer sea foam now. That tone in her voice doesn't sting me like an angry insect. And that pillow-over-the-chest, so tight I thought I'd always be trapped, has moved to a fist-squeezing-the-heart, so tight I hope it'll never let go.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter all think I'm daft—that I've turned into some love-sodden sop who can't see the forest for the trees. But I know what's behind the knowing glances, the smirks, and the scathing remarks. Being alone has done some funny things to my friends.

When your afraid of what you'll do to others, when your afraid of what you'll do to yourself, or when you're just plain afraid, wrongs don't make rights, and Life seems a little more bitter toward you. It's not their fault that they're afraid.

That's what fear does to you: you worry about it for so long, avoid it for so long, that after a time it's almost…addicting. Remus without the fear of what he might do to people wouldn't be who he is. He wouldn't have a reason to prove that the thing that's keeping him down is just a minor swell in the sea of life. Sirius without the fear of himself wouldn't be the Padfoot who's so loyal that he'll kill before he looses one of his mates. And Peter without the fear of everything wouldn't be who he is. He wouldn't be driven to find the thing that will protect him the most—or the people.

But fear comes from being alone, and even though we had each other, in our minds, we wandered the misty corridors of thought in solitude.

Until, that is, I made one terrible mistake and everything fell into place for me.

It seems like I'm lucky—that things went my way like they did. I suppose, in a way, I was lucky. I thought I'd blown it, that night in the astronomy tower, just below the door that led to the roof and the parapets, where everyone went when they needed to sate those teenage hormones. I thought I'd blown it for sure when Lily turned her head away from mine, staring at a spot on the wall in the dim light of the torches.

"I don't know what you're playing at, James," she had whispered, "but you can't just tell someone that you love them after everything you've done."

I knew immediately what she'd meant. Yes, I'd spent my youth doing everything I could to make her life hell, but that wasn't what had hurt Lily Evans the most. Teasing and baiting her for years wasn't what had made her snap in the end. What had done it was my own fear.

There she was, on the top of the tower, trying to find whatever it was she was looking for that night. Instead, she found me. I wasn't up there to sate hormones. I'd done away with that long ago, when I finally realized what it was that I wanted. I was up there because that's where Lily was. I'd followed her after dinner, determined to tell her that she was right—I was a prat.

But when I finally walked up to her, in the dark, and looked down at her pale face, barely visible, I couldn't do it. Her hair was whipping around in the wind, and strands brushed my cheeks and neck. Her eyes weren't full of tears, they weren't full of hate—they were full of sorrow. She hadn't found what she was looking for. It was that realization that left me afraid to apologize to her finally. I couldn't do it—not when I thought that that's what she needed to hear the most.

So I kissed her. Right there on the astronomy tower. I leaned down and pressed my hands to the sides of her chilled face. When I pulled away, her eyes were closed, and I whispered, "I love you."

Then her eyes, those heartless, rage-filled eyes, snapped open and she said, "What?"

I had grinned at her and said happily, "I love you, Lily Evans."

Except, she didn't grin back, or kiss me again, or even respond. She just walked away, opened the door, and disappeared down the steps. My cries of "Lily, wait!" rang behind her.

"You can't just tell someone you love them and make it all work," she said, after I caught up to her inside the astronomy tower.

"Why not?" I asked.

Finally, she looked at me. "You can't because it's not right—things don't work like that. Things don't fall into place like some kind of fairy tale. This isn't a romance novel, James, and you aren't the bare-chested hero."

I wanted to smile at her words, but whatever the corners of my mouth ended up doing was far from a smile. I was grimacing. I knew she was right. I'd made the ultimate mistake. I thought that just because Lily was tolerant of me, that just because we'd become friends, even, I could make things right with a simple kiss.

I thought that I could get away from confronting my fear.

Because that's what it was all about. Everything I'd ever done to Lily had just been out of fear. At first, I was afraid of letting such an inconsequential, muggle-born witch beat me at nearly everything. So, I went on the attack. I was afraid at backing off of the attack. Then I was afraid that the whole time I'd been attacking, I'd failed to notice I'd actually defeated her.

I was afraid that I'd fallen for Lily. It was the hardest moment of my life to realize that the battles I had been fighting turned out to be bad for my own heart. Finally, I was afraid that she'd been right the whole time, and the only way to make things right, and to win the war against myself, was to tell her I was sorry.

I took a breath and looked down at her. Her chin was jutting out in that stubborn manner I'd first noticed in fourth year. I ran a hand through my hair. When Lily frowned at the gesture, I put my other hand to her face and pushed some of the red hair away from her forehead. I leaned down.

"Lily," I said slowly, "I'm not good at making things right. I'm just not good at it."

When Lily didn't respond, I took my hand away from her face and continued, "And mostly that's because I'm stubborn. I've always been stubborn and I always will be stubborn. But here's the thing—you're too good for me to give up just because I'm not good at making things better, and just because my chin juts out just as much as yours does."

Lily frowned.

"I just want you, Lily—"

"James," Lily started, but I shook my head and barreled on.

"But I know I've messed things up too much by now. I can't have you because in all of the years that we've known each other and you've hated me, I never said I was sorry. But I'll say it now Lily. I apologize for being such a stupid, prattish, thickheaded git to you. I'm sorry for hurting you."

Lily didn't throw her arms around me. I didn't really think she would. But she did look me in the eyes and whisper, "That's all I was looking for."

And so I suppose I am lucky, and that Life was looking out for me. In the end, I married Lily. It took me a while to convince her. It took a lot more kisses on my part. It took a lot more apologies, too. It took me giving up my fears because I didn't want to be alone anymore. Alone is a terrible sentence for a person, even though Remus, Sirius, and Peter still don't believe me on that count.

I've had a decent life—I've lived well, I have a son, I have Lily, who sometimes slides her hand up my arm in the dark when we're whispering to each other in bed. I've had a good job, too. I tried doing something worthwhile, something that would prove to Lily and myself just how much I could make things right. Being an auror doesn't make up for the past, but it makes the future seem a little more bearable.

For some people, at least, because here's the part where my luck runs out. I'm not afraid of anything anymore. I love Lily, and she knows it. I love my son, and someday hopefully he'll know it. I love Remus, Sirius, and Peter, as much as a man can love his brothers. I love the wrongs I've done that have turned into rights.

But whatever future I've tried to create, I'm not going to see it. Instead, I'm looking up into the cold, dark eyes of a pathetic, mad wizard, standing over me, clutching his wand, and screaming, "GIVE ME THE BOY, POTTER."

The wrongs and the rights stop now. Lily's hands on my arms halt. That odd feeling that life is going my way is gone. I'm not giving up my son to this monster standing over me. He's not taking the rights in my life from me. I'll die to protect it all.

The fear ends here, in this flash of green light, and I'm _not_ afraid.


End file.
